


Coin Laundry

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, Suggestive Themes, college boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Yuri is sitting on the broken washer doing homework when the new guy walks in.





	Coin Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> this au was inspired by [this gorgeous art](http://nornier.tumblr.com/post/165137383902/star-laundromat-open-247) by nornier on tumblr.
> 
> thanks bunches to R for beta reading.
> 
> to all, please enjoy this pointless and very tame laundromat/college au ficlet.

Yuri is sitting on the broken washer doing homework when the new guy walks in.

He can tell it's the new guy immediately because no one—except perhaps Dedulya and the homeless guy who lurks outside the laundromat on weekends—knows the clientele better than Yuri does. He knows the laundromat better than he probably knows his own bedroom. He was practically raised by the Trankov couple, who did their colors on Tuesdays at noon and their whites on Saturdays at 10am, and by Mikhail, the grad school student, med school student, and now doctor (and also, a husband).

Yuri usually has all the students memorized three weeks into the school year. The lineup doesn't change much during the year, but he heard from Natalya the economics major that a new guy had moved in. A student at the music school who was on the waiting list at the apartment down the street. Apparently the guy he's replacing got kicked out for renting his place for porn shoots.

So when the new guy walks in, Yuri glances up from his statistics homework and notices him immediately.

The new guy is... really freakin' hot. Which is a strange thing for Yuri to think. He doesn't really use that kind of word to describe people. Objectively, maybe. But Yuri's never had time for flirting or dating or whatever else normal 18-year-olds do with people. He goes to school. He helps manage the laundromat. He runs errands for Dedulya. Sometimes he's noticed clients staring at him, but he figures it's mostly because of his awesome fashion sense (he saved up for three months for these leather boots, people better stare) and not because of something like, well, lust or anything.

But the guy walking in carrying a black laundry bag over his shoulder is _hot._

Undercut dark hair and fierce eyes.  He doesn't look Russian — which isn't _too_ surprising, seeing as they're near the university.

He and Yuri lock eyes. Yuri's immediate response to being stared at is usually _leave me alone_ , and so he finds himself scowling back at the guy out of habit. But he's oddly not annoyed at all by being watched by the hot new guy. In fact, he sort of welcomes it.

Hot new guy wanders over to the change machine and sticks in a couple bills to get a few coins. Then he stops, glances over the machines (it's not too busy right now, seeing as it's a Monday afternoon just before the after-work rush) and then walks over to the washer two down from where Yuri is perched.

Hot new guy looks at him once again before he opens the washer and starts to load his clothes in.

Yuri clears his throat. "Hey."

The other guy glances up. His eyes are dark brown and softer than Yuri had first thought.

"Hi," he says.

Yuri scrambles for something to say. He's not friendly. He doesn't just make conversation with strangers for no reason. What is small talk? And why is he trying to make it with this guy?

He jerks his head at the detergent sitting at the guy's feet.

"That detergent sucks."

Hot new guy arches an eyebrow and something sharp zings through Yuri's stomach.

"Really," the guy deadpans.

"Y-yeah." Yuri swallows. "It smells like shit."

One corner of the guy's mouth quirks. "I've been using it ever since I moved here."

Yuri shrugs. "Can't be that long. This is your first time here."

"I meant since I moved here. To Russia."

 _Is that an opening? That's an obvious opening, right?_ He is so bad at small talk.

"You're not from Russia?" he asks.

The hot guy shakes his head and says, "I'm from Kazakhstan."

That would explain his light accent and his looks. His completely, unfairly hot looks that definitely do not affect Yuri in any type of way.

"Oh," Yuri says eloquently.

"Yeah." The guy finishes loading his clothes in the washer while Yuri watches like a right idiot. Once he's poured in the detergent and inserted his coins to start the washer, he turns back to Yuri. "My name is Otabek."

_A sexy-sounding name for a sexy-looking guy._

"I'm Yuri," he says. "My grandpa owns the laundromat."

"Does he?" Otabek looks around. "It's a nice laundromat."

"Thank you." His cheeks go warm. "He's had it ever since before I was born."

"Ah."

As if taking Yuri's words for an invitation, Otabek moves closer and leans against the washer right next to the broken one. He's so close right now that if Yuri stretched his knee a few centimeters further, it would touch Otabek's stomach. _Shit_. What if he has visible abs? Yuri looks away hurriedly before he can look close enough at Otabek's thin gray shirt to search for a hint of abs.

"You're new," Yuri says. "To this area, I mean."

"Mhm. I moved in down the street last week."

"Oh."

"Whatcha working on?"

Startled, Yuri looks down at his lap. Right. Homework.

"Stats homework," he mumbles. "My grandpa is running errands so I'm just working on it while I watch over things here."

Otabek makes a humming noise that sounds far too close to Yuri's ear. He wishes he would move a little closer. Hum a little lower. Maybe place those humming lips against his—

"Are you a math guy?" Otabek asks.

"Um." His face burns. "Yeah. Yeah. I guess."

Geez, he's being such a loser. Yuri has never been this way around someone else before. He doesn't like strangers but he's never flustered or nervous around them. He doesn't do stupid stuff like admit he likes math. Or freely give background information about the laundromat. He doesn't _do_ stuff like this. So what is it about this ( _hot_ , what the heck) guy that's got Yuri making a fool of himself?

"I suck at math," Otabek murmurs, and when Yuri glances back at him, the guy is smiling. Or, what appears to be a smile. The guy has limited facial expressions, Yuri has realized, but he's expressive once you pay attention.

"Really?"

"Really. There's a reason I'm majoring in something impractical like music."

"Music's not impractical."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Yuri says quickly, thrilled that he can wiggle out of this one.

Otabek sighs and leans more on the washer. His body is now tilted more toward Yuri's, and his torso brushes Yuri's knee without even trying. _Holy crap, those are abs, right?_

"Do you like music?" Otabek asks.

"Yeah."

"What kinds?"

Great. The Worst Question. The thing is: Yuri doesn't really _know_ what his music taste is. He's always just listened to whatever Dedulya had on. Classical music in the car and while making dinner, Top 40 or talk radio in the laundromat. Yuri's not allowed to put headphones on while watching the laundromat just in case someone needs him or something. He's seen people walking around campus listening to music, but at this point Yuri wouldn't even know what to put on his device to listen to.

"Uh, just whatever." He scratches his ear. "Whatever's on, I guess."

"Hm," Otabek says again. After a beat of silence, he reaches into his jeans pocket. "Would you like to hear some of my favorite stuff?"

Listening with only one side of earbuds doesn't count as wearing headphones while watching the shop, right?

Yuri listens.

*

After a couple weeks, Yuri has Otabek's laundry schedule down. All clothes on Monday afternoons. (Otabek owns very few white clothes, he observes.)

As the weeks pass, Otabek and Yuri listen to music, chat about school and math, and debate which kind of cuisine is better (Yuri swears by pirozhki, while Otabek claims nothing is better than his mother's besbarmak). After a while, Yuri realizes that this is what friendship feels like. What it means to be comfortable with someone else his age—someone he actually wants to be around, unlike his classmates and the other students who come to the laundromat.

He's not sure the blushing whenever Otabek does something particularly handsome is supposed to be part of friendship, though. The whole thinking-of-Otabek-when-he-wakes-up-hard-and-jerks-off-at-3am thing is probably _not_ 100% friendship.

So Yuri does his best to ignore it until one day Otabek walks in carrying an iced tea and balancing his detergent in the same hand, hefting his laundry bag with the other, and somewhere in the process of claiming a washer, he ends up spilling the iced tea all over himself.

"Shit!" Yuri exclaims, rushing over to help.

"Yurochka," Dedulya warns from where he's fiddling with a dryer along the wall.

"Sorry, I mean, shoot." He shifts Otabek's clothes away from the spill zone. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Otabek says, sounding actually fine. Not bothered at all. "Good thing I'm at the laundromat anyway."

And Otabek Altin proceeds to take off his leather jacket and strip out of his shirt right there in the middle of Yuri Plisetsky's grandfather's laundromat. Yuri is not sure that his jaw doesn't fall to the ground.

Otabek. Is. Ripped.

 _Fuck_.

"Uh," Yuri stammers. "What are you doing?"

Otabek lifts an eyebrow at him. "Cleaning my shirt." He balls up the shirt and tosses it into the washer before shoveling the rest of his clothes in there. "My pants, though."

"Y-you could, um." Yuri's brain processes have been momentarily stalled by Otabek Altin's abs and broad shoulders and _wow_ those pecs. Wow. "I could find some extra clothes for you in our apartment upstairs."

"Okay." And then without warning, Otabek ties his jacket around his waist, strips off his jeans, throws them in, and starts the washer.

Yuri is breathless. He barely manages to tell Dedulya where he's going before he's whisking Otabek away from the prying eyes of the other clients and out the back door, around to their apartment door, and then up the stairs.

And then he's got Otabek standing in his bedroom in nothing but boxers and a leather jacket, and it's like all the fantasies he never knew he had have come true.

He means to say something chill. Something actually useful. Like "I don't think my pants will fit you, but I probably have a pair my mom sent at my last birthday that aren't the right size and I haven't worn." Or "do you want to wash your jacket, too? There's a dry cleaner a few blocks away." Or even, "Can you throw on this robe to cover yourself up while I find some clothes for you?"

But instead what comes out is, "You're so fucking hot."

And this time—for _once_ —it is Otabek's turn to blush. He looks down demurely, as if Yuri is the lewd one here and not him, standing in the bedroom in basically nothing.

"Is... is that a good thing?" Otabek asks with a quick glance up through his lashes.

 _Oh crap_. Not only is the guy hot as frick, but he's also cute. Yuri does not have the strength to resist this.

"I wasn't sure at first," Yuri says. Carefully, he takes a step forward. "I've never thought about someone this way. I'm kinda mad about it."

"That you hadn't thought about someone that way?"

"No. That you're so hot that all I can think about is doing this."

Before he can think better of it, Yuri launches forward, tossing his arms around Otabek's neck, and kisses him right on the mouth.

Which is a really, really, really dumb idea. Yuri has no idea how to kiss. He's never kissed anyone before, except for that time he kissed Maxim Levitzky behind the laundromat when he was 7, but that doesn't count. He's watched porn, but that has a distinct lack of kissing, so he has nothing to learn from. It's probably supposed to be something more than just pressing lips together, right? There's tongue or something involved, right?

He pulls back for a moment to think, but he's only taken a breath before Otabek has come back in. And Otabek doesn't seem to have much more experience than Yuri does when it comes to this. He opens his mouth against Yuri's and pokes at his tongue before Yuri has a chance to figure out what to do with his own lips. But it's good.

 _So_ good.

Like, raking-hands-through-hair-and-is-that-a-dick-against-his-thigh good.

Just as Yuri begins to wonder when it’s appropriate to take a real breath, Otabek thankfully pulls back. His lips are swollen, his eyes glazed, hair a mess. Yuri is thrilled.

"Sorry," he says. "I had no idea what I was doing."

Otabek laughs. "Me neither. I was thinking you did, since you made the first move and everything."

They rest their foreheads together and laugh into the small space between them.

"So you think I'm hot, too?" Yuri asks.

Otabek rubs against Yuri again and, yep, that is definitely a dick. "Obviously."

Yuri bites his lip and checks the time on the clock by his bed.

"Well, my grandpa won't start wondering where I am for another twenty minutes, at least. And your clothes are already in the wash so..."

"So?"

"So... we could learn how to do some other things till then?"

This time Otabek kisses first.

*

They end up coming back to the laundromat 45 minutes later, significantly disheveled, and doing a poor job of covering up fresh hickeys. Dedulya gives them an odd look. Yuri just shrugs and waits for Otabek to switch his wet clothes to the dryer.

Then, without warning, he pushes Otabek against the dryers and gets back to kissing. Because, well, he's got a lot of time and practice to make up for.

Otabek smiles against his mouth and rests his hands on Yuri's hips before moving them lower, lower. And then he squeezes—

"Yura! Not in the laundromat."

Yuri laughs and turns around. "Sorry, Dedulya."

"Later," Otabek murmurs into Yuri's hair. "I'll do this properly. Take you out on a date. If I pick you up tonight?"

"Then I'll go with you." Yuri is so delirious with happiness, with the giddiness of possibility, that he kisses Otabek again. "Take me anywhere. And I do mean that as a double entendre."

Otabek squeezes his butt once more before removing his hands to a more laundromat-appropriate area. "I'll come pick you up and we'll go somewhere fun."

"And then after? Will you let me suck your dick this time? Return the favor."

Otabek's face flushes. _Success_.

"S-sure," Otabek stammers.

Yuri kisses him again, just because he can.


End file.
